Death is an evil; the gods have so judged; had it been good, they would die.
I would not think to touch the sky with two arms
To me the Muses truly gave / An envied and a happy lot: / E'en when I lie within the grave, / I cannot, shall not, be forgot.
Experience shows us Wealth unchaperoned by Virtue is never an innocuous neighbor.
All the while, believe me, I prayed our night would last twice as long.
How love the limb-loosener sweeps me away